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It was December 22, a Saturday, and the last weekend before
Christmas. She was getting some last minute shopping done.
After making her purchases, she walked with her son over to
the cottage covered in artificial snow that sat in the
middle of the shopping mall. She had promised her son that
he could visit Santa.
Her son was eight years old; tall and lanky like his father.
He had dark auburn hair and gray-green eyes, a sprinkle of
freckles on his cheeks and a wistful smile. His voice was
gruff for a boy so young, prompting many folks to refer to
him as the "little man."
Since his father's untimely and sudden death seven months
earlier, he had tried to fill his daddy's place by
volunteering for extra duties around the ranch and his
once-boyish mannerisms quickly gave way to an assumed adult
demeanor.
Juggling her packages, she gently prodded her son forward
when the elf assistant informed them it was her son's turn
to sit with Santa.
She couldn't hear what the shopping mall Santa and her son
were saying, but she couldn't help notice her son's
expression. His gray-green eyes sparkled with unshed tears
and his lips trembled as he nodded his head in response to
something Santa said. An elf with a camera told her son to
smile as he snapped a couple of shots. Her son looked past
the camera, his thoughts miles distant. The only one who
smiled was Santa.
Once in the car she asked her son what he had told Santa he
wanted for Christmas. He turned his head toward the window.
His words bounced off the glass with a dull echo. "I want to
tell daddy I love him. I want him to hug me and tell me, 'I
love you, buddy!' when he tucks me in at night.
"She tried to draw a breath past the painful lump in her
throat. "I know, honey. We weren't able to say goodbye. We
weren't there to hug him up and savor his goodness one last
time...I'm sorry, hon.
"He hung his head. "Me, too," he muttered in his gruff
little boy voice. The hour it took to get home was quiet.
***
That evening as they decorated the tree, a storm crept out
over the flat range, groaning with snow laden clouds and
whining winds. Soon wet heavy snow was pounding at their
windows, and icy fingers of the wind crawled under the doors
and into the house.
"We'd better check on the horses. I'm concerned this storm
will spook the mare that??™s due to foal any day now. And I
want to make sure the chickens are locked up good and
tight."
"Okay, Mom. I'll check on the chickens." He picked up the
boxes of ornaments from the floor and placed them on the
nearby couch. "We can get to the rest of this later."
She cast a proud glance at her son. "Yes, my little man. We
can." She grabbed their coats and scarves from the coat
rack. They bundled up and went outside. The flood light from
the roof of the barn was little help as the gusting wind
tossed thick folds of snow everywhere. Pushing against the
wet and cold she reached the barn, threw back the retaining
bar and went inside. She flicked the lights on and took a
relaxing breath. It was suddenly quieter and calmer within.
She scanned the stalls. All was peaceful. The horses were
fine. The pregnant mare dropped her head over the stall
half-door and huffed a welcome.
He opened the door to the coops and warm air brushed 'round
him. The heat lamps were on, bathing the chickens in a red
glow. They were settled in for the night, some sleeping,
while others clucked softly in the shadows. He pulled his
scarf tightly around his neck as he shut and bolted the
coop. As he turned towards the barnm he was stopped short by
a sound.
There, in the blustery snow was a dark shape. A whimpering
sound issued from the quaking creature. The boy gingerly
stepped closer. He saw a black ball of fur. The head
trembled as it whined piteously.
The wind died down and the boy got a better look at the
animal. "Come here, pooch." He coaxed softly. He squatted
down nearer the dog and held his hand out. The black dog
stood slowly, then reached over and licked the boy's hand.
Holding his arms out, the boy called the dog to him. In a
bound the dog crawled into his arms--all the while licking
the boy's face.
He met his mother just outside the door to the barn. She
gasped sharply when she espied her son and the creature in
his arms.
"What do you have there?" She knew, but she was caught by
surprise.
"Can we go inside?" he implored, staring down at the dog.
"He's freezing out here."
"Umm." She nodded and hustled herself and her boy towards
the house.
Shutting the front door behind her, she faced her son.
"Let's take a better look at him, shall we?" She drew closer
then wrinkled her nose. "He will need a hot bath, then some
food and water."
The boy grinned and rushed off with the dog. In moments the
tub in the bathroom was being filled with water and she
could hear her son talking to the dog reassuringly.
Half an hour later son and dog emerged. She studied the dog
that now followed closely behind her son. He was of medium
size, bright-eyed ...and smiling.
She watched as the dog ate. "Your father had a black dog and
he loved that dog a lot. He used to tell me stories about
him. He said his name was Jeremy."
He nodded at the dog. "May we keep him?"
She didn't have to give his question much thought. She'd not
seen her son this animated in months. "Sure. What are you
going to name him?"
Her son paused, then gave his answer. "Buddy."
For the next two days boy and dog were inseparable. They
played and worked together. Come bedtime, Buddy followed the
boy to the bedroom, jumped up on the bed and settled down
for the night.
Christmas Eve before the boy fell asleep, Buddy squirmed
over to him, placed his paws on the boy's shoulders and
snuggled up against him. The boy hugged him close and Buddy
covered his grinning face with dog kisses. "I love you," he
whispered, then fell asleep cradling the black dog in his
arms.
Christmas morning, the boy woke up to find Buddy gone. He
hurriedly changed clothes then ran out of his room, calling
after Buddy. He couldn't find Buddy in the house so he
rushed outside.
There, in the snow were paw tracks. Buddy's. He followed the
tracks, calling for the dog...when suddenly the tracks
disappeared. He canted his head, "Oh!" he burbled with a
giggle. He then took a deep breath. "Oh," he said again as
understanding flooded him. He bowed his head and whispered,
"Thank you..."
Hearing her son crying out as he hurried through the house
she bolted after him. When she caught up to him she glanced
down, following the boy's gaze.
She studied the tracks, puzzled. "Where's Buddy? Did you
find him?"
The boy reached up and grasped his mother's hand. "I'll tell
you when we get inside." With a light tugging he pulled her
back in the direction of the house. It had begun to snow.
"Let's go, Mom."
She looked back at the tracks. The snow was quickly filling
in the depressions, obscuring the dog's path. She turned
back to her son.
He was pulling her faster toward the house. He looked back
at her and a bright smile blazed across his face. "I'll race
you back." He let go of her hand and dashed across the yard.
As he reached the porch he threw his arms over his head and
let out a big whoop.
Behind his mother a tall, lanky figure bent down just as a
smaller, darker figure ran up to him. "Good, dog, Jeremy.
Come on!" The black dog wriggled into the man's arms. "You
did good, boy!" The man smiled, and there was a sparkle in
his green eyes. He then turned into the swirl of snow, and
vanished.
***
Copyright 2003 by Stehvin Walker
paavarr @ yahoo.com
I call the hills west of Davis, California home. I have
enjoyed writing since my early school days. I've also
dabbled in watercolors and oils, and tried my hand at
various musical instruments. But writing has been my
mainstay. I love the mountains, the coast...anyplace away
from the rush of city life.
Stehvin Walker
paavarr @ yahoo.com
http://www.geocities.com/paavarr/StehvinWalker.index.html
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May you be blessed today
Bob Johnston
Editor / Publisher
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May you be blessed today
Bob Johnston
Editor / Publisher
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